Here he comes, one hand in his trouser pocket, holding his bag with the other one, now, he slips his hand into the bag's sleeves and hangs it up his shoulder, then with the other hand rests it firmly on his back. With the weight of the bag pushing him forward, his shoulders deceptively hunched forwards (for it’s not the attentiveness but the weight that is dragging him closer to the ground with each step he takes). then a truck with the a dark plastic carriage that fluidly slips over the edges rushes past him, then a scooter honking horn overtakes the truck with an immediacy that confounds the little creature with weight on his back. For a moment there is rushing, honking horns, a vehicle overtaking another, and then suddenly everything just descends into the gravity of the earth, as if not troubling itself against the earth's force. he walked a mile, or perhaps two, before taking a pause, only to readjust the weight on his back to suit the present posture, just pushing the weight little higher where it offers him a breathing space, to relax, just for a moment, and then it’s gone, his breathing is troublesome again (for the weight pulls itself around his shoulder blades tight enough to constrict his rib cages that house breathing passages together).
Now, it’s getting dark, and the sun settles close to earth over the horizon, descending into the other world, where it would ascend with impending accuracy. The yellow light that settled itself on roof tops now turns reddish and is slipping away, here a roof top is left vacant; there a mountain with parched landscape is left futile and dull. And the moon reaches out with his clever timing to consume, to promptly define the perimeters over the horizons, no sooner has the sun descended, moon takes the seat of incumbent power. Darkness now pervades everywhere, treacherously creeping into the houses through the curtains; over the mountain neatly engulfing it, and now, the mountain does not exist anymore, for the dark gorged it. But curiously the deceptive moon with its thin slants of dark slates pushes a tall tree into obscurity, a hut into obsolescence, the road on which the little creature is walking with the perpetually gnawing weight into desolation.
But curiously, houses put out the intensity of darkness, lights now, lights everywhere, at first in sporadic intervals, house after house, and then, with in no time, the whole horizon is covered with lights, dim, whitish, sometimes colored too. Now dogs reign the world of lunacy, a mad dog entertains itself with its fury and rage, a rabbit peeps out of its hole, very apprehensive, and in a fleeting second shots out into the dark invasive territories. A snake follows the rabbit, sniffing, hissing, only to stop at the rabbit’s den, clever indeed, for it cannot match the rabbit's speed but can wait here, till the morning for the prey to return. now the chicken hurry into their homes, birds into their nests, and the night grows still and dark, and everyone is readying up themselves and pushing others around to sleep, to revitalize and rejuvenate their energy resources for the next day, and the lights are put out in the front rooms, while the other rooms still persevere (for not everyone is willing to sleep so early).
Now, he reaches a bridge, rests his weight down on the roadside and walks into the dark corridors of the thick shrubbery underneath the bridge, here he cleans his rugged palms and drinks water. Even water is calm and frozen, for it is still and tranquil underneath the bridge with a truck that crosses the bridge above every now and then. now he sits himself close to the flowing water, wets his legs and as the water smoothly conjures up a miracle, as it suffuses through him an energy, of endurance, of a support, of a flow that never ceases, of a togetherness and a bond that never breaks, he is attracted to the ceaseless flow of water, and relates it to himself. Now, he is strong, and walks up the incline to the bridge above and puts on the weight again and the journey begins, after a momentary digression.
Now, all the lights are put out, all the rooms, even the corridors, only the street lights remain, and the dogs start rampaging in the streets, and the rabbit finds its food, and the snake is still waiting, and the birds are long asleep. Now the curious little creature spurred by the moment’s glory gazes up and is taken up by surprise. Where there was a moon and a few stars a moment ago, as if they were blots of white ink spread across a black canvass, a transparent and foggy canvass (for the lights obfuscated the glory of the stars), now, it was clean. The sky was now glowing with sparkling accuracy, of stars that were fertile and growing thickly white absorbing the fecundity of the canvass on which they were blotted out, each star looked distinct and unique.
now, the little creature is walking homewards, and the night grows evenly familiar in the horizons, where it was heterogeneous with a multitude of different street lights lighting it up at regular intervals, now it is dark and concentrated, homogenous, a sea of wreckage left by the sun, for the dark swallowed every object, every tree, every bridge, every road, every mountain with a famished intensity that nothing was left outside its circle of imagination. now, everything looked inhumane, dark territorial advances were closing on him, a fox, a hound, a snake, all the creatures pushed forth their individual territories and nothing was left for him to trod, so he carefully, conscientiously stayed on the road (for the road was made for creatures like him, and there was no where else to go, there was no turning back).
Now a bridge, but he did not rest (for he is very apprehensive), he did not descend to drink the water from the river flowing underneath (for he is perturbed), and he does not gaze skyward (for he finds his senses inadequate to conjure up an awe at this moment). now he proceeds, and a sound of hissing from the thick shrubbery which marked the road lengthwise, and a creature steps over his unprotected feet, and he jumps in desolation, blenched with fear and anger with himself, he is beside himself, and he summons up courage to watch the creature, a frog, and he relaxes, takes a deep breath and proceeds. Then he locates a lantern, deep in the horizons, somewhere far away, and another, now another, and finally a cluster of lanterns, and he becomes himself again, strong. he draws up courage form the lanterns, that his village should be close purifies him, from the apprehensions, and he pushes the weight up for one last time before stepping on to the incline that his village is situated at the top of.
Now he reaches, and he carefully lifts the weight and puts it down. His wife, still awake, hands him a towel. He bathes himself, while his wife arranges his food neatly over the floor. Now, she sits him down beside herself and she feeds him, all the while entertaining his inadequate gestures and fumbling hands with support, with understanding. Now he finishes his supper and rests on a rug, which his wife unfolded for him, she then nurses his weak and painful back while he slips into depths of sleep.
Now, the little creature wakes up at dawn, milks his buffalos, pets his dog, and collects the eggs laid by the hens. While his wife is sweeping and preparing food for the day, he unties the weight of last night to reveal a collection of dry sticks, which he places up on the floor and proceeds to break them up length wise with his axe.
Now the moon is pushed back by an orange sun that wakes up with slopes of beautiful light rays spreading across the sky, as the sun ascends higher, the red lights turns yellowish and the street lights in the distant horizons are put out, and the inhabitants of houses wake up. Slow slumber immediately turns into hustle bustle and the little creature lifts his milk cans two in two hands with the empty bag hanging over his back, he takes to walk, for yet another day.
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